The Story of an Extraordinary Dog

I have quite often heard that "there is no such thing as a bad dog, only a bad owner."  Does this mean that all dogs are good?  What if you happen to have a dog in your life that wasn’t just average?  Just a normal good dog.  What if you happen to have a dog in your life that was..extraordinary?  I believe that I had such a dog.  This is her story..

Daisey’s story is one that started with kindness and ended with love.  It could be compared to a modern day Jack London story.  I happened to be on an outdoor forum.  This was before the existence of “social media”.  I believe “My Space” was a thing, but I never had the computer knowledge to understand how it worked.  This was the day of “Forums”.  A topic was started and then there were endless responses called threads I believe.  One day, a member of the forum mentioned he had beagles for sale.  He didn’t mention price or location, but it did strike my interest.  I responded asking for more details.  I don’t even remember what his asking price was on his beagles, but his location was near Humbolt, NE.  As I was looking at a map, I found that Humbolt was on the other end of the state from me and I decided it was too far to drive just to go get a dog.  The seller then asked a few questions about our family dynamics, why I wanted a beagle..  I answered and told him Humbolt was just a little far for me to drive.  I seriously was not using it as bargaining leverage.  Humbolt was a ways from McCook.  I think a day or two passed and the guy told me if I was willing to make the drive, he would give her to me.  It sounded like she would have a good home.  The deal was made.  Looking back, I think this was the turning point for Daisey.  The start of what made her extraordinary...a random act of kindness.  Something that seems to be hard to find during the current trying times.

The day came, I traveled across the state to Humbolt.  The exchange was cordial and quiet.  Not a lot of words.  Daisey even came with papers since she was a purebred.  Not bad for a free dog!  I set Daisey on my lap and we drove back across the state.  She was supposed to be a family dog.  One that my daughter Addison could grow up with.  A Disney story possibly.  They could be pals and would form a bond.  Daisey did become a family dog.  We all loved her.  She had a bond with everyone.  But, on that day as we traveled home, Daisey on my lap, a different bond was formed.  It was truly a four legged love affair.  From that day forward, Daisey and I had a special bond.  One that will never be forgotten.

I think Daisey's introduction into our family was typical of that of most puppies. We already had another beagle, our first child, Bailey. We had then decided to have another child, the two legged kind instead of the four. I think this is the typical evolution of most marriages. You start with a dog, see how your new life partner nurtures and if it goes well, you begin to add two legged creatures into your home. Addison was a little over a year old now. She was walking and pulling ears on everything she could. Bailey had found patience for her two legged sister and we hoped that they would have patience for yet another four legged sibling. Looking back, I am not sure if we were building a family or if we were building a zoo.

Daisey and Addison loved to play! Addison figured out that if she found a long piece of string, cloth or towel that Daisey would chase her. Grabbing and tugging as most puppies do. It was purely primal entertainment. Simplified. Chase or be chased. That was it. For Daisey and I, this was the beginning of our walks. Since we already had another beagle, I would load them up in my pickup, roll down the passenger window and their heads and noses would be hanging out. Catching the aromas of the neighborhood and then on into the countryside. I would take them for walks out in the canyons of southwest Nebraska. Usually plenty of prairie, plenty of Eastern Red Cedar and that usually housed plenty of bunnies. Anyone that has owned hounds knows and understands the music of a hound dog. The piercing sound of a "bay". I can still remember Daisey finding her bay. Her nose closely to the ground, it was like a witching stick searching for water. Her head and body only followed as the nose did the work. At first she started with a few yips. It was like her body was transforming. She really didn't even understand what she was supposed to be doing. Her instincts had taken over and she was submitting to the "call of the wild". The yips became more and more frequent and then she finally hit the trail. A straight line that the ole bunny had run and it was hot! At this point, Daisey completely submitted to her instincts and she allowed them to completely take over. A few more yips and the first bay came. It was almost like the first bay was her clearing her throat. She was almost surprised by herself and then she let loose bay after bay after bay... Letting me know she was hot on the trail. She was doing exactly what she was bred for. She was a hunting dog.

Daisey was your typical puppy. More energy than you know what to do with. We made it through the winter and was now in our first summer together. This was the point that Daisey and I really formed our bond...our two legged, four legged love affair. Anyone that knows me knows I love the outdoors. I am constantly looking for the next adventure. The next camping trip, the next backpacking trip, the next fishing trip. I never felt like I was supposed to be domesticated. I think that is why Daisey and I formed such a bond. I was constantly looking at ways to roll back time, live back in a primitive way... Simplify life and Daisey loved every minute of if. Our first summer was full of fishing, camping and backpacking trips and Daisey was ready to go. She was ready to sit in the passenger seat and put miles between us and civilization. Ready to roll back time and enjoy life.

I will never forget our first backpacking trip. I was nervous about taking her into the wilderness of Colorado. What if I lost her? Would she mind or just be a pain? Would she stick with the group or would she be constantly running off? My wife was encouraging the situation. I think she felt like she had enough on her plate at home. She had a close relationship with her beagle Bailey. Addison was at the age she was getting into everything. Daisey had become almost a full grown dog, but her heart was that of a puppy. She needed to run and play. With me being gone for a long weekend and Liz fending the zoo on her own, Daisey probably wasn't going to get the exercise she needed. Liz was firm... "That dog" is going with you!

I bought Daisey a dog pack and a bell. The dog pack only held a little bit of dog food for her. I could have easily carried the weight in my backpack, but that was not the purpose. The dog pack was to slow her down. Just a bit. I hoped it would keep her focused and directed on the trail. Try to keep her from wandering off the cleared path and into the woods. I knew the smell of the mountains would be tempting. There would be all kinds of things to smell, investigate and chase. The bell was for me to know where she was at. If I heard the jingle of the bell, I knew she was close. If I didn't, then I would have to retrace my steps and find her.

For the most part, our system worked. This was before Colorado became quite so popular and we hiked into places without a lot of people. Daisey was a joy to have, she was fairly directed on what we were supposed to do. Occasionally, I would stop because I didn't hear her bell anymore. It had stopped jingling to let me know she was close by. I would have to retrace my steps to the last bend and look around the corner and there she was. Her nose had not allowed her to continue on. It was absorbed with smelling some rock or stump. Daisey had submitted to her primal instincts. It was what she was bred to do. I would look at her and yell "come on Girl!" She would look up from what she was doing. Surprised that I was yelling at her and reality would set back in. She always looked like she had a smile and she would come to me in a dead sprint. Her bell jingling wildly as she would catch back up. I would pet her on the head and praise her for coming. After all, this is what we came for. Me in the mountains living a simplified life and trying to roll time back 100 years and her taking in all the smells that nature had to offer.

I have to say that our first night in the tent was where Daisey and I had our first serious disagreement. It was a small tent. Light, exactly what someone would want hiking 30 miles in the backcountry. There was not enough room to sit up. You had to crawl in and when you crawled in, you crawled into your sleeping bag too. I am not going to lie.. It is work. So, I am doing this unsightly struggle. Changing into my sleep wear, getting the sleeping bag opened and situated just right to make this difficult transition easier. Daisey is watching and observing. She too is tired from the day. I finally get in, whistle for Daisey to join me. You could tell what was going through her mind. What room is left for me? I planned on her sleeping at my feet. She could cuddle up against my sleeping bag for warmth. It was a good place for a well loved dog. Daisey joined me and I pushed her the best I could in the tight space making her aware where her place was. She got to the end. The tent was so small that her head was pushing up against the top of it. She looked at her space and then looked back at me with those hound eyes. I knew exactly what she was thinking. "This is bullshit Dad..." I kept telling her to lay down girl, lay down! She wasn't having it. Back to the front of the tent she came. I didn't really know what she was up to. Maybe she wanted to be closer to my head and cuddle up against me there... But, Daisey had other plans. She crawled right up to the front of my sleeping bag and started nuzzling her nose inside the sleeping bag. THIS, was not what I had in mind either. Like the tent, the sleeping bag was small too. There is no desire to carry any more extra fabric up the mountain than you had to. There was barely enough space for me to roll over in, let alone to share it with a dog. I pushed her away, which only made her come back with more force and desire. This time when I pushed her away, she growled at me. No kidding, it was the growl of survival. Her domestication of sleeping indoors in a climate controlled home was finally coming through. That sleeping bag was going to be shared and I needed to make room. I laughed, it was a ridiculous situation and ridiculous circumstances. The night mountain air at 8,000 feet was cold and was only going to get colder. In Daisey came. We went on many more backpacking trips and I shared that sleeping bag with her on every one of them.

From this point, our lives continually changed.  We added another two legged creature to the zoo, Alani.  Daisey was as gentle with Alani as she was with her sibling Addison.  The girls could pet her, grab tuffs of fur, ears and Daisey would let her know when she crossed the line with a faint whine.  I tried hard to protect Daisey from the curious hands of an infant, but for anyone that has kids understands the struggles.  Our lives continued.  The usual.  Jobs, vacations, camping trips...the struggle of just trying to keep the family pointed in the right direction.  Quite often, Daisey and I would sneak away.  A short walk so she could chase the bunnies.  A canoe trip down the Dismal River in the Sandhills.  Wherever I went Daisey was near.  She too needed a walk in the wild, the smell of nature, chase a bunny or two.  It was what kept us stable.

The years past and with that came the aging process.  Daisey had been on many great adventures with our family.  She had done probably more than most dogs had.  I could see the age in her eyes.  Her head started to gray.  She slept more and played less.  I think that is the typical life of most dogs.  We kept taking her on most of our family vacations.  She had seen many mountains in Colorado.  She camped on lakes and streams across Nebraska.  She even spent a week on an island in Lake Superior.  Hiked in the deciduous forests of the North land.  I knew age was catching up to her.  I took her to the vet on many occasions complaining to them about her hips.  They were getting weak.  They assured me it was just life catching up with her and they gave me some medication for the arthritis and sent us on our way.  

I could tell Daisey's years were getting limited with us.  The arthritis medication really didn't work.  Last summer we traveled to Northern Minnesota.  A grand and beautiful area with waterfall hikes on every river as the water cascaded down the Iron Range to join the clean, clear and crisp waters of Lake Superior.  Something told me then that this might be Daisey's last adventure.  Her hips weren't allowing her to do many stairs anymore.  She slept more than she was awake now.  She was just a tired dog.  On one of our waterfall hikes, there was a series of staircases.  I think one of the guide books claimed one staircase contained 80 steps.  When we reached the stairs, I picked Daisey up and carried her in a way she was comfortable.  It was work to carry her up and down those steps.  I get many smiles and chuckles from other hikers to watch me carry this old beagle up these stairs.  "That dog has it figured out!" they would say and give me a smile.  I would smile back.  Accept the comments as cordial humor..but Daisey wasn't just any ordinary dog.  She was extraordinary dog.  She had hiked more miles with me than anyone.  Me carrying her up those stairs was my tribute to her for all her dedication over the years.  When we reached the first waterfall, I asked Liz to take a family picture of our girls and I with Daisey.  This might be our last adventure.

Daisey made it through another winter and spring with us.  Another season of change.  She always slept on a dog bed on my side of the bed.  I had to put up a gate up in our bedroom every night.  Her bladder wasn't strong enough to make it through the night anymore.  If she was shut in, she would wake me up.  If she wasn't shut in, she would leave the surprise next to the back door.  Close as she could to where she was supposed to go with no one up to open the door for her. She was a good dog.

Last week I came home from work.  Liz told me Daisey was off all day.  Her digestive system didn't seem to be working properly and she was aimlessly walking around the backyard.  Liz assured me it was a look she had seen before.  It was the look a dog had when it was trying to find a place to lie down and die.  I instantly was annoyed and angered by the comment.  Daisey was going to be fine.  This was just old age and she has gone through phases like this before and always bounced back.  I had the day off from work the next day and Liz made me promise I would take her to the vet.  I said I would.  That night Daisey woke up several times in the night panting.  She was trembling when I reached down from my bed and felt her.  I knew she was not well.

I took Daisey to the vet the next day.  The vet clinic would not let me inside due to COVID-19 restrictions.  I had to sit in the pickup and wait while they examined her.  When I handed the leash to them,  Daisey instantly sat down and resisted.  She looked at me with those hound eyes and gave me her last "This is bullshit Dad" look.  They drug her inside and I waited in the pickup.  

The vet came outside.  "She seems to be having some abdominal pains and there seems to be some sort of blockage.  We need to run some blood tests.  Are you OK with that...it can be kind of expensive."  I nodded yes. I am not going to lie I was a little annoyed.  I think in rural Nebraska some vets have adopted a culture of dogs being dispensible creatures.  Farmers and ranchers coming in with their cow dogs.  A dog is a tool not a pet.  If it can't perform it's task then it is time for a new one.  The vet popped out of the vet clinic again and said her liver enzymes are high, they needed to do an ultrasound.  Would I be willing to pay for that?  Once again, I assured her that at this time money was not an issue.  This wasn't just an ordinary dog, but an extraordinary one.  It was a sister to my daughters and a best friend to me.  We had hiked mountains together.  Shared a pretty gosh darn small sleeping bag together on more than one occasion.  This dog was worth every penny.  The ultrasound was done and the vet came out with the news.  I already knew what she was going to say.  I had been researching it on my phone while I was waiting.  The ultrasound showed a huge mass on Daisey's liver.  She had cancer.  The vet said it was bad.  Her gums were showing signs of jaundice. I asked her if she was in pain.  The vet assured me that she was.

I loaded Daisey back up in the pickup and headed home.  I was beginning to choke up but I knew I needed to be strong for the girls because they were going to be concerned.  Addison met me on the front step.  I could see the concerns in her eyes.  "Is Daisey going to be alright?!"  The flood of emotions finally overcame me.  I broke down and shook my head no.  Instantly both girls joined me with tears.  Daisey had been a part of their life since they can remember.  She was like a sibling.  They grew up together and played together.  Quite often when I couldn't find Daisey next to me on my side of the bed in the morning, I would find her in Addison's bed.  Snuggled up to her.  Addison had covered Daisey with the covers and had her arm over her.  They looked peaceful and content together.  It was a scene that would certainly fill anyone's soul.  I proceeded to tell them that Daisey had cancer and she was very sick.  We sobbed some more as I explained to them that we needed to think about Daisey in all of this.  She was in pain and it wasn't right to let her suffer.

That night Liz and I talked.  We knew what we had to do, but I wasn't going to take her to the vet clinic to do it.  The COVID-19 restrictions wasn't going to allow me inside and I didn't want Daisey's last moments to be in fear.  Liz and I hugged and embraced each other.  Liz is the compassionate animal lover in our relationship.  We feed everything.  Stray cats, birds, you name it.  She kept whispering to me that "It was time Tyler, it was time".  The rest of the story is similar to "Old Yellar", but I can tell you this one was harder.  Old Yellar wanted to take someone's arm off due to his rabid condition.  Daisey still looked at me with her hound eyes with love and compassion.  We loaded up and headed out for our last walk.  I took her to a favorite spot where the bunnies ran wild.  We headed off towards the cedars in the tall grass.  She followed.  Her hips were loosely following her.  It had probably been the cancer that weakened her hips so bad, not the age and arthritis.  I am guessing the liver cancer had spread and had been given her problems all along.  Daisey walked slow.  I let her take her time and smell a few things.  We finally walked to a nice spot and I got down on my knees and gave her one last good loving.  She looked as though she was happy for the walk.  You could tell the pain was there, but she was dealing with it.  I put her favorite treats down and let her eat.  I will save you from the rest of the story, but I assure you her death was quick, more humane and painless than the vet could do.  It was instantaneous.

At that moment I sobbed.  It wasn't a quiet sob, but one where I moaned and my gut began to ache.  I had ended the life of not just an ordinary dog, but an extraordinary one.  I mourned for a dedicated 12 years.  Daisey had become an intricate part of our family.  She was a sibling to my daughters and the best four legged adventure companion I could have ever asked for.  Looking back, I left a piece of myself with her on that day.  I still feel an emptiness in my heart and an ache in my gut.  I have not really talked about us losing Daisey.  I have not told a lot of people and have not posted it on social media.  If your first reaction is to tell me that you are "sorry for your loss" or want to have any sort of sympathy for me, I am going to tell you to save it.  That is not what this story is about.  This story is about a random act of kindness from a stranger that started a love affair with a family from McCook, Nebraska with an extraordinary dog.  That is what this story is about...

Special thanks to Corey, a kind stranger...